


When I'm far too gone, can you show me love?

by JustGotThemSharpened



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Coming Out, Hopeful Ending, I swear the fic isn't as bad as the tags suggest, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Mentions of Sex, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Requited Unrequited Love, Sylvain and Felix talking it out like good bros, Trans Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Trans Male Character, coming to terms with sexuality, just trying to cover all my bases with all the possible triggers but most things are skimmed over, sylvain's past trauma, talk of bad sexual experiences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28695726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustGotThemSharpened/pseuds/JustGotThemSharpened
Summary: He felt Felix stiffen under his touch, looking at him over his shoulder with the corner of his eye, the tip of his ears turning a deep shade of scarlet as he mumbled something under his breath Sylvain didn’t quite catch.“What?” Sylvain asked, softly, dropping his hand back to his side and trying to look at Felix’s curtain of hair instead of the deep marks etched in his back and now in Sylvain’s eyes as he closed them.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 39





	When I'm far too gone, can you show me love?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Please mind the tags before reading this, and if I missed some tags, do let me know!!!
> 
> There's a mention of Dorolix related to the "bad sexual experience" tag

The Garreg Mach baths were empty, with most students dead and gone as the war raged on. They were the only ones occupying them right now. It was just him and Felix. Felix threw his clothes in one of the lockers, slamming it closed with a loud _clang_ that could _almost_ have startled Sylvain, if he hadn’t known the man for nearly two decades. He was used to Felix’s lack of bedside manners.

Instead, he whistled, turning to look at him and finding Felix glaring at the thing like it had personally offended him.

“What’d that locker do to you?” He asked, walking closer to him and oh - that was a bad idea.

Felix’s back was covered in scratches, scratches he was familiar with, having worn them more times than he could count. His hair was shorter now, so the red lines were in perfect view. It made his stomach swoop uncomfortably - if he hadn’t known better, he would almost think it was jealousy. Far from him to be jealous. And, if Felix finally found someone to fuck and that helped him with his serious case of being a stick-in-the-mud, all the better for everyone. Fewer glares, growls and sarcastic quips to go around.

He was fooling himself, though, he _was_ bothered. He searched for the reason. Was it because Felix hadn’t told him? No, that wasn’t it and he knew it. _Oh._ It was _that_. Sylvain buried the feeling deep in his heart and locked it away.

Instead, he pressed his hand right under the marks, gently, confirming what he already suspected: the hands that had left them were much smaller than his, but his nails perfectly coincided with them.

He felt Felix stiffen under his touch, looking at him over his shoulder with the corner of his eye, the tip of his ears turning a deep shade of scarlet as he mumbled something under his breath Sylvain didn’t quite catch.

“What?” Sylvain asked, softly, dropping his hand back to his side and trying to look at Felix’s curtain of hair instead of the deep marks etched in his back and now in Sylvain’s eyes as he closed them.

“Dorothea,” Felix replied, a little louder. If Sylvain’s stomach had dropped before, now it sank below his feet. There was a bitter taste coating his mouth, he forced a swallow but it didn’t leave, like a festered wound.

“Hey, good for you!” Sylvain exclaimed, gathering fake cheer from whatever pit his brain had stored it. His tone felt off in his own ears. He hoped Felix wouldn’t notice.

“It’s not -” Felix sighed, scrubbed a hand on his face. “I didn’t like it,” he confessed, quietly.

 _Oh._ Sylvain slipped his shirt over his head to distract himself from the spark of hope that flickered in his chest. Romance borne during war was ill-advised; even he, Sylvain Jose Gautier himself, had been bringing fewer and fewer girls (sometimes boys) back to his room, bone deep tiredness discouraging him from doing much else.

He told himself it had nothing to do with the man behind him that was slowly unwrapping the bandages that covered his chest. The lie tasted bitter on his tongue. If he kept repeating it, would he believe it?

Sylvain forced words past the lump in his throat. “It’s alright, you know.” Part of him was glad that Felix couldn’t see his expression. Sylvain couldn’t imagine what it looked like, but the pang of pain that had taken residence in his chest gave him an inkling.

“Don’t pity me,” Felix scoffed, abandoning the bandages on the bench closest to his locker so he could retrieve them later. Sylvain noticed with a little relief the lack of red, angry marks that Felix used to leave on his skin in their academy days, trying to make his chest look as flat as it could. Ah, typical Felix. There were his walls, starting to build up, prickliness always at the ready to bat away whatever Sylvain said to him.

“I’m not,” Sylvain said sincerely. He turned to look at him and _shit_ , _bad idea._ Felix’s piercing gaze was on him, scrutinizing him. Trying to detect even a hint of deceit from his childhood best friend.

He huffed, slinging a towel over his shoulder once he realized Sylvain was being honest. Sylvain allowed himself a small smile as he got rid of the rest of his clothes to follow his friend in the baths. A weird, giddy feeling swelled in his chest as he realized Felix was trying to _open up_ to him, something that hadn’t happened since they were little kids and a skinned knee was enough to send Felix into a pool of his own tears.

Man, Sylvain really missed that little kid. He missed being Felix’s whole world. He missed drying his tears with the sleeves of his shirt, he missed kissing his forehead, he missed hugging him close to his chest and being rewarded with a smile that was missing a front tooth.

Felix didn’t smile like that anymore. Sometimes, the corner of his lips would raise minimally and that was as close to a smile as Sylvain managed to get out of him. He cherished every single one, probably a little more than a _best friend_ should.

“So - wait. You said you didn’t like it?” Sylvain cajoled, joining Felix in the bath. The scalding water from the hot springs was a blessing on his sore muscles. Thank fucking Sothis for the magic that had kept them active despite the disuse.

Felix mumbled something under his breath, avoiding Sylvain’s gaze. Sylvain leaned closer to him, straining to understand what the swordsman had said.

“Sorry, Fe. Didn’t quite catch that,” he murmured, watching Felix’s cheeks heat up. Was the unflappable Felix Hugo Fraldarius _embarrassed?_

 _Felix,_ who he’d seen take down men twice his size without breaking a sweat. Felix, a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield, probably the deadliest man he knew (after the Professor and Dimitri), was embarrassed.

He thought it was amusing and cute at the same time, but wisely didn’t voice it as he watched Felix struggle for words. Sylvain watched a frown appear between Felix’s brows while he got frustrated with himself.

“Come on, a penny for your thoughts. My lips are sealed.” Felix’s shoulders slumped at that. He was well versed enough in his friend’s body language to recognize relief in the gesture - it was clearly something that had been bothering him for a while, scared of being judged by Sylvain. As if that would ever happen.

“I...I don’t think I like women,” Felix confessed quietly, water sloshing around him when he came to rest his back at the edge of the tub where Sylvain was.

His shoulders were tense now, hair hanging around his face and hiding his expression. The little kid Sylvain remembered, crying for him whenever Glenn beat him in a spar was right there in front of him, vulnerable and waiting for Sylvain to...what, lash out at him? Feel disgusted?

The mere thought of it made him want to gag. Sylvain could never be disgusted with Felix. He had loved him for too long, he had concealed his feelings for too long to even _consider_ it. Seeing the man he loved look like that broke his heart into a thousand pieces.

He knew what Felix had expected all too well. Sylvain still had nightmares about the look of contempt on the Margrave’s face, the words flying out of his mouth like sharp daggers just sinking in his chest one after the other. Sylvain still felt like an idiot for thinking his father, the man who had always treated him like a valued, pretty object only useful to produce heirs, would receive the news his son also liked boys well.

 _“Felix_ ,” Sylvain whispered, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and drawing him close to his side. He felt his friend stiffen, then relax against him. Sylvain rubbed his shoulder gently, brushing a lock of his hair aside so their eyes could meet. Felix’s hand reached for his own, resting innocently on his shoulder and squeezed briefly, cheeks rosy in a pretty blush.

“It’s alright. There’s nothing wrong with that. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me, Fe.” 

And secretly, deep, deep down in his mind, Sylvain dared to _hope_.

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Ren's latest angst fest, thank you for sticking with me! This is another piece I wrote as application for the Trans FE3H zine  
> Big thanks to Mel and Zack for betaing and sensitivity betaing this!
> 
> Title from "gimme love" by JOJI
> 
> find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/hanzohoemada) | [promo post](https://twitter.com/hanzohoemada/status/1348717774307270657?s=20)


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